Rain

Above him in the sky clouds started to solidify. A convertible was possibly not the best car for the English climate, but he'd been bought one, and even if he sometimes felt like he was driving around a fish tank full of water due to the slightly damp interior of his car, he loved it anyway. It was a guy thing. Aiden had many 'guy things' that confused his sisters. What they didn't realise was it was retaliation to being the only male that ever slept one night a month in a house full of women. Even the cats where female.

Not that it mattered to much, he mused as he smoothly slid his car into the drive and scrabbling to get it covered before the rain really came. He loved his sisters. And say if Talitha were male, well that would ruin his popularity. Being the only male witch in town had its advantages. He never wanted for a date.

It seemed to bother Faith. She didn't know about the Nightworld. And Aiden planed to keep it that way. She was as safe as a human could be. Maybe he should tell her, it might help her understand that Aiden and Talitha didn't care that she wasn't their blood sister, why they didn't tell anyone where they went out on Wiccan Festivals. That they weren't ignoring her, or not wanting her, just that… they loved her and wanted her safe.

Rain started falling in earnest, drawing Aiden out of his revere. He loved natural weather, but the heavy drops of tainted water falling through the car fumes where depressing. He could remember the time he had spent in the country. His sister could not. Slowly he sauntered to the house. It was a shadowed shape against the gun grey of the sky. For late morning, closing to afternoon it was dark. Almost like a premonition.

Something is wrong. He precisely hung his jacket in the cupboard, leaving the hall and entrance bare and stylish except for pools of water that had dripped off him. Something bad had happened. Trance like he extended his senses.

No one was in the house. He couldn't sense any other spells other than ones that he and Talitha had muttered, their vibes dusty and faint.

He was in the kitchen, not remembering how he'd got there. Always follow your instincts. He pulled air raggedly into his lungs and gagged. He knew that smell. Blood.

He could see it now, seeping round the edges of the modern, French polished table, that matched the cupboards was blood. Hidden behind the chair was his foster mother. The blood that surrounded her was sticky, starting to blacken and brown marring the perfect redness of it. Aiden wiped the blood off his fingers dispassionately. He hadn't been that enamoured with his foster parents. He stood up from his crouch by the body and kicked the chair across the designed kitchen.

"SHIT!"

They hadn't been much, but they had been his. Now he wasn't concentrating water dripped down his face and into his eyes.

He examined the body again. A deep, hacked stab wound to the heart. It explained the blood. In the blood where the mark where he had kicked the chair through it. Not good. But there where other marks...

"Have you seen Talitha."

Aiden whirled, alarmed and suddenly furious that he'd allowed someone to sneak up on him. It was a fellow Daybreaker.

"Oh." Arthur looked coolly down at the dead body. "Did you do that?"

Aiden gritted his teeth as he faced the shifter. "No!"

Arthur regarded the body, his nostrils flaring as they scented the air. "There's been a vampire here. And Talitha was here. I think."

"You only think?"

"The blood." Arthur glared, "I can't smell anything much under the blood."

"Isn't Talitha at school?" Dread started to stretch his stomach.

"No. She cut. Hazel sensed something bad."

Aiden stared, horror washing through his eyes. He tried to breath shallowly. "Any ideas?"

"We had hoped she was here."

"Then lets go and look for her!" Harry narrowed his green eyes, "There's no use just standing here!"

*

It was just typical. Only one NW club in the whole of town. Only on place where he could get liqueur strong enough to send him into Forget-it-All Land. And the barmaid was threatening not to give him anymore. Stupid witch. Just a tendril of thought, and a brutal twist of his mind later, and she wasn't going to argue with anyone again. As he downed another bottle, and smashed it off the bar he turned and snapped her neck. The drooling was getting on his nerves.

Women, he had not one use for women. Very few women could fight, and the rest where weak. Weak equalled food and spot in Flames very short book on ethics. It was more a leaflet. That meant he could just leave her there, and Jake would sort it. He'd always been the swot.

He downed another bottle, his mind starting to push the alcohol aside. But this time that was what was needed. Why had Jake 'insisted' that Flame accompany him? He downed yet another bottle of pure fireproof and lost the thread.

What was it about being blonde? Most Redferns where blonde, Flame was blonde, but he, Flame thought angrily was most assuredly NOT a Redfern. Nope, he could assure them. He did not care at all that Jake would kill all of them. And no, he wasn't being a coward. Just that if he was there that spell would take effect. That was it, Flame decided. He choked down another bottle, dizziness starting to take him.

He stood tall and stretched, before glugging more booze down. In the corner of his eye he saw movement. Witches. Three. They didn't seem happy. But then, who was?

*

Bad Flame. Awww. So, review those who want more.